The Expendables Vs A Flawed Healthcare System
by cpwriter26
Summary: On a dangerous mission to seek out a villain from their pasts, The Expendables gang runs into a problem larger than they've ever encountered before. It's up to them then to contain a food-borne illness outbreak of epic proportions as they discuss in great detail the widespread implications of workplace discrimination. Some may not make it out alive...


**The Expendables vs. A Flawed Healthcare System**

It was a typical Friday night for the Expendables gang, except for one thing. The jukebox was on the fritz, and instead of AC/DC's Highway to Hell, it only played Smash Mouth's All-Star. In a fit of rage, Tool had jammed the numbers for Highway to Hell so many times they'd now been listening to All-Star for the past 5 hours, and punching the jukebox, as Lee Christmas found out, only made Smash Mouth play louder. The song's mixed metaphor about shooting stars somehow breaking the mold echoed throughout the city's bustling avenues, causing numerous junkies to submit themselves to rehab that night with feverish claims of bottoming out. As for Lee Christmas, he was content to continue playing darts, Smash Mouth or no Smash Mouth, until Barney Ross stumbled through the door, a worried look upon his face and a jug of cooking wine in his hand.

"Why ain't you throwing knives?" Barney slurred.

"Ran out of knives and I ran out of darts," Lee Christmas answered in a hard-to-place accent.

"So you're using fountain pens?" Barney asked, removing a few Bics from the dartboard.

"The pen is mightier than the sword. Now, am I going to have to play pin the tail on the jackass, or are you going to tell me what's got you so worked up about?"

"It's about Stonebanks."

"Conrad Stonebanks? That mouldering corpse?"

"I don't know. I just got word from Trench. Says he was out at a hospital in the Pacific Northwest getting a botox injection in his perineum, whatever that means, and when he was chowing down in the cafeteria, there was Stonebanks, munching on some cheese-sticks."

"I thought you shot him?"

"So did I," Barney said as he gripped a fountain pen and hurled it with all of his might at the dartboard.

A high-pitched scream crescendoed over the song's falsetto backup singers.

Lee Christmas shouted, "Oh my goodness gracious, Barney! You just nailed Yin Yang right in the eye."

Clutching at the dart lodged in his face, Yin Yang spun and collapsed to the ground moaning, "I think I'm dying..."

Barney gritted his teeth and said, "Now that's what I call a scheduling conflict. I don't know, maybe old age is catching up to me. My aim's not what it used to be..."

Lee paused, deep in thought, and said, "Blimey, guv'ner, if Stonebanks is alive that means he's still due to stand trial at the Hague!"

"Hey, ain't you forgetting? When I shot him, I specifically said, 'I am the Hague!'"

"Jeepers creepers, Barney. I keep telling you, just because you say you are the bleedin' Hague doesn't make it true. Now if y'all cowpokes ready to skedaddle down to the bloomin' hospital, we can finish what we started with this Stonebanks mameluke!"

"Hey, I been meaning to ask you, Lee, just where are you from?"

"Oy vey, you're a right pain in me gulliver, homey. This ain't a time for I and I to be jivin' about the Lee Christmas family tree, I reckon."

Yin Yang's moans drop to a low gurgle.

"Right. Let's get the plane and fly right away for this hospital in the Northwest. While we're there, we can drop off Yin at the ER." Barney pulled the plug to the jukebox and resoundingly clapped his hands, "Alright, gang. Word has it Stonebanks is still alive somehow. So let's suit up, lock and load, pack a travel bag, download the last season of Downton for the plane, tell our mothers where we're going, update our wall posts, free up space on our Instagram accounts because I hear the mountains are just divine, and let's show Stonebanks once and for all just who the real Hague are!"

A round of applause shakes the glasses and rattles the bar.

Weakly, Yin protests, "Isn't there a closer ER you can drop me off at?"

"Alright guys, it's now or never," Barney said as they prepared to stealthily enter the hospital by parachuting from their plane to the the top of the hospital's parking garage where Trench had arranged a convoy of Hummers to take them to the guest parking level on the third floor, where they would abandon their parachutes and combat gear to put on their civvies and were to proceed to the rendezvous point at the information desk, where they would await instructions from the volunteers on how to find the cafeteria.

Doctor Death checked his phone's GPS and signaled to the team, "Alright, Google maps says in three minutes we will have left the troposphere and will be approximately 33,000 feet above the hospital's parking garage." Gunner Jensen made the sign of the cross and expressed his reservations, "Hey Barney, I still don't understand why we gotta be so high up."

"We don't want Stonebanks' men to know we're coming."

"But-."

Before he could finish his sentence, Barney pushed Gunner out of the plane.

"You're next, Bonaparte."

"Well now really Barnes, must we go through with this charade? I'm due for luncheon with Niles tomorrow at Cheers and I really haven't much time to press my suit, and Niles has such a fastidious eye for detail..."

Barney crossed his arms and gave Bonaparte a hard and icy glare.

"Oh alright, if it will make you happy," Bonaparte strapped on his parachute and fixed his tie as he lingered near the open hatch door. "As I always say, tossed salad and scrambled eggs..."

"Huh?"

Bonaparte's shout droned off as he plummeted earthward, "...Are calling again!"

Lee jumped out headfirst shouting, "Chitty-chitty-bang-bang..."

Yin Yang had entered into a state of distraught catatonia for the duration of the flight, and said nothing when Barney pushed him out of the plane.

Barney was the last to jump. He squinted down at the bleary stretch of land somewhere on the western hemisphere and said, "I hope my aim's good this time..."

For four hours the Expendables gang nursed their aching heads and stomachs in the parking garage as they slowly recovered from an extreme case of the bends following their plunge down from the stratosphere. Since they had all violently expelled everything they'd ate in the past year, they found themselves pretty hungry when they finally entered through the hospital's main entrance. Luckily, a friendly elderly volunteer was there to point them in the way to the cafeteria, where they patiently stood in lines for sandwiches and smoothies. As they looked for a place to sit, a man with a thick Austrian accent called out to them, "Hooty-hoo fellas. Over here!"

They carried their trays over and gathered around the table where Trench sat.

"What are you doing here?" Barney asked, puzzled. "And while we're on the subject, what are we doing here?"

Gunner Jensen answered, "Remember, we came here to find Stonebanks."

"Well gentleman, I believe the man of the hour is right over there," said Bonaparte, pointing to a corner booth where sat Conrad Stonebanks rather clearly, enjoying light conversation with two of his goons over yogurt parfaits and iced tea.

"Trench, you've been in the same room with Conrad all this time and you've done nothing?"

"Ah, Conrad!" Said Trench, slapping his knee. "So that's his first name. I made eye-contact with him earlier but he didn't seem to recognize me. I thought about reintroducing myself, but I couldn't remember his first name and-well, it was this whole big thing."

"No time for modern social rituals, let's get him!"

"But we just sat down!" Gunner Jensen protested. "Yin hasn't even finished his smoothie."

"So cold," Yin said, slowly bobbling his head. "I think I can smell sounds..."

"Wait, guys," Barney said. "This might be our biggest battle yet. We may not all make it, and we're going to need all the courage we can muster. So let's bow our heads and sing, maybe for the last time, our team's glorious fight song!"

In the center of the cafeteria, the Expendables sang a lavish, multipart harmony rendition of Smash Mouth's All Star, deftly choreographed by Jensen, followed by three encores. When the applause ended, they looked around to see Conrad Stonebanks nowhere in sight.

Bonaparte gripped his walkie-talkie and contacted Dr. Death, who was piloting the plane in geosynchronous orbit above them. "Well, old friend, I regret to admit we may have lost track of Stonebanks and his men. Any sight of them from your position?"

Dr. Death squinted down at the cumulus clouds blanketing the Northwest, "Sorry, Bones. Can't say I can see them."

"Oh, fiddlesticks."

"I guess that means we're on our own," Barney said, fist-bumping his chest. "But let's remember, when the going gets tough, it gets pretty tough, and it's tough going for a time, but if you're tough, or if you're going to be tough..."

Gunner Jensen compassionately interjected, "Barney, we're your friends, and you know we're always here for you, but we're starting to think you have a problem."

"Never mind! Let's just split up and look for Stonebanks."

They each got up and scouted off in a different direction, leaving an incapacitated Yin behind to watch their stuff.

It wasn't long though before Gunner Jensen spotted a man who he assumed to be Cornad's first victim. The man was leaning against the wall of the cafeteria, clutching his midriff tightly and groaning with his eyes closed.

"Guys," Gunner hollered. "We need a little help over here."

Quickly, the Expendables were each gathered around the cringing man who had yet to speak or open his eyes.

"Who is he?" Trench asked.

Lee leaned in, "Crikey, this here young'uns employee badge says 'Corey P.'"

"I wonder if he's-."

"For all we know," said Barney philosophically, "this could be any Corey P. Just as this hospital could be any hospital in the greater Pacific NW area so let's not all start jumping to conclusions."

"Well, one thing's for sure," Gunner said. "This Corey fellow must be a hit with all of the ladies."

"And he's ripped, too," said Barney. "He's way more tough and muscular than me."

Bonaparte added, "Why, I can tell by looking at him that this industrious young chap, apart from having the statuesque form of an Adonis in the Louvre, has a mind worthy of Mensa and a natural charisma perfect for the big screen."

"Alright, alright," Barney interrupted. "It's agreed. Whoever this Corey P guy is, he's a sterling-cast dynamo destined for greatness, but is he okay? Hey Corey, did Conrad Stonebanks or his men hurt you?"

"No," Corey murmured, shuddering up and down.

"Then why are you in so much pain?"

"Tummy ache," he said, writhing. "Bad tummy ache."

"Why?" Trench screamed.

With his last ounce of incredible strength, Corey pointed to a clipboard on the wall with several loose sheets of paper clasped onto it before he went unconscious.

"What is it?"

Gunner Jensen grabbed the clipboard and stared down judiciously at the top page. "It looks like an ordinary temperature log. I see there's blank spaces for the temperatures of every fridge to be recorded. Hmm. Nothing out of the ordinary here. November seems to be all in order."

Trench became angered, "Look closer. There must be something more. This intellectually gifted young man would not have pointed at the clipboard for nothing!"

"Okay," Gunner Jensen started to turn the pages, but his eyes bulged out further every second. "No, no, no, no! This cannot be happening. This is bad, fellas. I'm talking Demolition Man bad."

"I heard that."

Bonaparte said, "Oh what has that incorrigible Mr. Stonebanks done now?"

"No, it wasn't Stonebanks," Gunner Jensen said, eyeing the pages more closely. "It was... It was... negligence!" "What?"

"The blanks, the blanks, the horror of the blanks!"

"Out with it, Gunner!"

"The blanks. They weren't filled in! Days and weeks of blank blanks. These temperature logs were supposed to be filled in twice daily to prevent the public from consuming contaminated food. Without these temperatures being overseen, the cafeteria may have been a hotspot for food-borne illnesses."

"We are in desperate need of information on the matter," nattered Bonaparte. "Oh, if only this debonair Mr. Corey were able to help us!"

Tears in his eyes and full of rage, Trench pounded on the floor as he cried out, "Why? Why? Why take this All-Star? Take me instead!"

Trench died and Corey came back alive.

"I feel refreshed," Corey said, bathed in radiant light.

Gunner Jensen grabbed him by the shoulders, "You can tell us about the great beyond and the meaning of life later. Right now, we need to get to the bottom of this food-borne contaminant case before anyone else gets hurt. What do you know?"

Corey said, "I noticed long ago that basic food safety precautions weren't being maintained. I tried to tell my coworkers about this, but they didn't listen. And why would they? I was just a supplemental staff, eventually a dishwasher. Nobody liked me pointing out flaws in the system, even when those flaws could have lead to PAEs."

"PAE?"

"Preventable adverse events. Things that happen inside the hospital that can have a negative effect on the patient. In the wings, CNAs, nurses, and doctors do everything they can to make sure safety and health protocols be followed as closely as possible, but not here in the cafeteria, which should be a crime since everyone in the hospital could very well eat the food prepared here. Even the patients who are completely bed-bound are snuck in snacks and burgers from the cafeteria. This means that despite all of the effort put into treating people by the doctors and other professionals, and the thousands upon thousands that are spent on procedures, these efforts may very well be undermined or undone completely by a bad slice of pizza or a scoop of lettuce."

"Oh, let's not be irrational," said Bonaparte, although his own fear was barely masked by his otherwise unflappable patrician manners. "Really now, Corey, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Salmonella and E. coli for starters. Plus there's another form of food-related bacteria specifically nicknamed the cafeteria bacteria."

Gunner nodded and said, "Clostridium Perfringens."

"Fancy word," said Lee tersely. "In my country, we just call it Mad Poops Disease."

"And just what country are you from?"

"Never mind that for now," said Corey, showing the assertiveness and leadership qualities he was known for. "Now, in most people, food-borne illnesses aren't often a big deal, sometimes going away over just a 12 hour period. However, these same illnesses are known to have a much more drastic and lasting effect on people with weakened immune systems, or on children, or on women expecting children." "Blimey. That's like half of the people who come to the hospital!"

"More," Gunner Jensen said remorsefully. "Some studies show that as much as 81% of hospital patients have at least one chronic illness. As if they didn't have enough to worry about, there's now this issue of what your ethnically-ambiguous friend there called 'Mad Poops Disease.' What's worse, eating contaminated food in some cases can cause problems weeks or months later, meaning that even if the cafeteria turned their ways around now, they can't undo the damage they may have already done!"

"Surely, you must have told someone."

"I tried! I brought up health and safety concerns to staff, management, administration and HR months ago." "And what was their response?" asked Bonaparte.

"Retaliation!"

"Tell me, Corey," said Barney. "Were you tortured?"

"In a way. I was denied health coverage and other benefits for the entire time I worked here, even though I frequently logged 40+ hours a week."

"Surely a billion dollar hospital would pay all of their employees health insurance."

"You're wrong. It's $2 billion, and they didn't. Apparently, as long as someone is not a nominally positioned employee by their title, they cannot receive benefits. It's a big loophole in the Affordable Care Act. But if a company can deny coverage based on a technicality, what's there to make them show responsibility at all?" "What about HR? They must have showed compassion to the worker. That's their job, right?" asked Barney, tears welling in his eyes.

"Wrong. They protect the company's interests no matter what, even if it means denying employees' claims based on grammar and syntax alone. In fact, after complaining I was deprived benefits despite how I showed up for all of my shifts and put a lot of effort in, I was told by HR that even if I showed up on-time and worked hard, they were under no obligation to give me benefits." Bonaparte was flabbergasted, but then, he was always flabbergasted. "If that is the case, dear boy, then what possible incentive could you have for showing up for work at all or putting any real effort into your performance?" "Only the fear of poverty!"

Barney's head was spinning, and not only because he'd uncorked the cooking wine he carried in his backpack. "Wait, wait, wait. So let me get this straight. This whole case of possible food poisoning and other public health concerns could have been avoided if the hospitals' leadership staff respected you and people like you instead of pointlessly discriminating against the little guys to save a few bucks here and there?"

"Yes!"

A strange voice came from behind them, "Now that's evil."

They all turned at once to see Conrad Stonebanks had got the drop on them.

"Where'd you come from?" Said Barney, befuddled. "It's funny. I kind of forgot about you up until now."

"Well, I was hiding in one of the refrigerators waiting for you guys to leave, but then when I started hearing talk about Mad Poops Disease I decided to take my chances out in the open. But I gotta say, I been in the villain gig for a long time now and this... this is just too much. My whole plan when I got out of the hospital was just to unleash a giant gas canister to turn a high percentage of our breathable air into helium for an hour or two."

"What was your endgame?" asked Gunner Jensen.

"Nothing really. Just thought it'd sound funny if we all walked around with high-voices. But this... possibly contaminating people who are already sick and denying health coverage to hospital staff, this is just evil." "I've thought about this," Corey said, rubbing his forehead. "It's not necessarily evil so much as it is just neglect. But that it's neglect makes it somehow... worse."

"Huh?"

"I think what he's saying," Gunner Jensen began, "is that this is something beyond good and evil. Healthcare is s a sort of zero-sum game. That which isn't in favor of better health is against it. So even though these acts may have been committed with no malice aforethought, their effect was as bad as anything a person could have consciously devised."

"I don't know if it's me or the cooking wine talking, but this is an ethical conundrum I can say none of us were adequately prepared for."

Although mostly blind by this point and sapped of his strength, Yin crawled his way over into the conversation and muttered, "The task force... Call in the task force..." "What task force? The Central Intelligence Agency? Federal Bureau of Investigations? Bachman Turner Overdrive?"

"No, JCO..." Yin said as he lapsed into a daze.

"JCO, like the jeans?" asked Barney. "Aha, I knew it was a good idea to invest my grandmother's retirement fund in stocks of those extra-wide jeans from the nineties. They're overdue for a comeback for sure. I mean, they're pants perfect for the boardroom and the bedroom. And chafing? A thing of the past, my friends!"

"Oh really now, Barnes," said Bonaparte. "You're thinking of Jncos, and by the way, I still don't think it was appropriate to wear those while delivering your grandmother's eulogy. But what our compatriot with the dithering pulse-rate was trying to communicate is that we should be alerting the Joint Commission Task Force about this malfeasance. They're the ones responsible for checking a hospital's patient safety regulations."

"They came, and when they did, staff and leadership dashed around to quickly cover up months of neglect. They had food service workers sign up for food handler's cards on the computers in the office. They told everyone to finally start wearing hairnets while cooking. They even forged the temperature logs!"

"This is dire," said Gunner Jensen.

"This is surreal," said Bonaparte.

"This is diarrheal," said Barney.

"Oh really now, Barnes! Was that necessary?" "Wait a minute," said Gunner Jensen in a tone of philosophic revery. "If the company forged all these things during the inspection, that means they probably scored much higher than they rightly deserved..." "They got a Gold Star rating! The Joint Commission Task Force did not check closely enough, and so all of these huge issues were able to swept under the rug, and since the hospital received such a high rating, they're allowed special levels of tax-exemption as well as other benefits."

Lee shook his fist, "Aye, caramba! You mean to say the perps behind this possible outbreak of Mad Poops disease actually got the highest rating possible-and claimed tax exemptions?" "Yes, and if the Joint Commission continues to poorly inspect hospitals, it'll mean more and more will get higher ratings than they deserve, and the unsuspecting public will go to them thinking they're about to get the best care possible."

"Wait, if hospitals are getting high ratings and tax exemptions..."

"It'll be like the Housing Crash of 2008 all over again, except this time, people's healthcare will be on the line. The Crash was caused by regulatory groups giving AAA ratings to sub-prime mortgages. What happens when Gold Stars are handed out to substandard hospitals? But the current managers and administrators aren't thinking that far ahead. They're claiming their tax-breaks while the getting's good."

"One thing's for sure," Barney said. "This is gonna wreak havoc on our plumbing. Now look kid, there's three things I know. Fists, motorcycles, and all the words to Smash Mouth's All-Star. But this, this is big. Almost bigger than All-Star in the late 90s. You may need to look for more help."

"I did. I reached out to local government, but they said it was outside of their jurisdiction. So did the Food Safety Inspection Service provided by the USDA. I finally contacted the FDA, but later heard they couldn't do much because their budget's about to be slashed by Trump."

"Trump!"

"I think my doctor is a Trump supporter," Corey said. "I told him I had a twisted ankle and asked what he recommended. He said 'deportation.'"

"Corey, this is no time for comedic gold. Tell us, was there anyone else you contacted?"

Corey paused dramatically, then glanced around at all of the Expendables gathered near. "You."

"Us?" Barney asked. "But didn't we come here to find Stonebanks for some reason because he was alive somehow?"

"No, believe it or not, but that was all a pretext to have us all gather together to have this conversation."

"I do not recall you writing to us," said Gunner Jensen.

"I didn't write to you. I wrote you."

"Huh?"

"When my attempts to contact local authorities failed, I turned to you, The Expendables."

"Because you knew we would protect you?"

"Close," said Corey. "Because I knew the First Amendment would protect me."

"Gadzooks," Lee exclaimed.

"You see, luckily, the First Amendment guarantees us freedom of speech, but the powers that be can find ways around this when certain bits of information get leaked to the press, or to social media, or on Expendables message boards and forums. Luckily, by hashing this out with all of you here, I should be covered by America's parody laws and other constitutional rights."

"But that means..."

"Yes, by having this conversation with the Expendables gang, I am saying this is a piece of fiction. As such, it will be inadmissible as a court document."

"But what I was about to say is," said Barney, forlorn, "does this mean none of us are real?"

"I'm sorry, Barney Ross," Corey said from the depths of his heart. "But I had to create all of you from the cast list on The Expendables 3 IMDB page."

"My head's spinning."

"I think what he's trying to say," said Gunner Jensen, "is that we are but constructs in another person's story, and we've all just learned of our fictionality."

Conrad asked, "But when we sleep, do we dream?"

Gunner Jensen added, "I still don't get it, Corey. If this is all a story and we're all characters in it, why all the gaping plot holes, the pages upon pages of bad puns and potty humor, the hugely inconsistent tone, and the total lack of a dramatic narrative?"

"Hey, this makes about as much sense as all of your movies."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

Barney drank the dregs of his cooking wine and delivered a rousing speech. "Now look, Expendables. Life's never been easy on us. We've fought many battles, recovered from countless wounds, and we've just learned we don't exist. Now, I don't know much about experimental storytelling, but metafictional or not, when somebody needs our help, The Expendables will rise to the occasion. So what do we gotta do?"

"Start by unclenching your fists," said Corey.

Everyone unclenched their fists and relaxed for a moment, save Yin.

"Didn't you hear Yin? It's time to unclench your fists."

"I can't..."

Gunner looked closer, "I think he may need a tetanus shot from getting that fountain pen in his eyeball earlier."

"There's no time!" Barney shouted.

"You've had so much time..." said Yin, his voice trailing off.

Corey heroically stepped forward, "Here's what we have to do. To keep this grave evil from spreading, we all need to put in serious complaints whenever we feel we are discriminated against by our employers, even if it means we fear losing our jobs, because here's the thing. As I've only lately found out, you can't lose your job for charging discrimination. If you do, you can complain about retaliation, which is also an employee right that's covered by the law. If those in leadership positions continue to show sociopathic personality traits in light of the information you've brought forward, just download and fill out a form offered by your state's Human Rights Commission. They will investigate matters for you."

"That's all fine and well," said Bonaparte. "But what about the pressing matter of the food we ate that we now know may've been contaminated?"

"I don't know," Corey said, sadly. "I tried reaching out to local government public health authorities, but they just gave me the run-around, and as of today, no significant actions have been taken."

Bonaparte replied, "Well, it looks like we're up salmonella creek without a paddle."

"Surely at least the CEOs or Admins would do something to protect their hospital's legacy?"

"Nothing, nothing. They've done nothing to improve safety or to alert the public about the bacteria they may've already spread. Well, nothing except deny me healthcare for six more months after I had an anxiety attack on the job. I saw a little girl throw up in the hospital's cafeteria. Everyone said, 'oh maybe she's just stressed,' but I knew. I knew."

"If the corporate overseers don't care, and the local government is useless, what do we do?"

"We engage the stakeholders. All of the people who rely on these corporations, companies, and institutions, we find ways to galvanize them out of their complacency, to make them speak up for the little people of this world. Sure, my letters to the authorities and advocacy groups accomplished nothing, but what about a hundred letters?"

"Now that's what I call democracy in action," said Barney.

Bonaparte said, "Ah, but the public is a fickle beast. How do we engage their interests? Surely we'd have to present this information in an exciting and entertaining way?"

Just then, a supermodel of whatever gender you find more attractive bursts down through the ceiling clutching a flamethrower and shouts, "Let's see you form a basis for your case if I destroy all of the evidence!"

The supermodel let loose a giant wave of flames pointed at the clipboard containing the temperature logs, but right before the fireball destroyed the information for good, Conrad Stonebanks leapt in front of the flames, shielding the paper but collapsing on the ground an ashen corpse right afterwards.

Gunner Jensen cried out, "He's dead... Again!"

Cradling the smoldering body of his former-enemy-turned-BFF, Barney wept crocodile tears and said, "I hope God likes his angels extra-crispy..."

The supermodel escaped, unless picturing the supermodel in the background makes this more entertaining.

"First Trench, now Stonebanks," said Barney morosely. "Two good men died inexplicably for this. I hope your call for civil activism is worth it."

Corey said defeatedly, "I don't know. I've tried my best, but I don't think we can make the big-shots of this world accountable for what they've done to further their own interests."

"Don't say that," Barney wiped the soot from Conrad's corpse off on his pants before patting Corey on the shoulder. "We can't give up on the people. Not when so many lives are hanging in the balance."

"Eureka!" shouted Lee Christmas, "Slap my fanny and call me Bertha, because I've got it."

Everyone stares at Lee in disbelief.

"Quick, rascals and scalawags, let's find us a computer."

"Why?"

"Because if the pen is mightier than the sword," said Lee, gritting his teeth. "Then a keyboard is a weapon of massive positive social change!"

"Let's go, All-Stars!"

 _The Expendables will return when they realize they left Yin in the cafeteria in_

 **The Expendables vs. Human Rights Violations**


End file.
